


Research

by WordsInTheAtmosphere



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, spoiler-free
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 08:05:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10827210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsInTheAtmosphere/pseuds/WordsInTheAtmosphere
Summary: Akira invites Mishima out for their first date, but it completely sails over Mishima's head.





	Research

**Author's Note:**

> Based my assumptions that Mishima likes sweets off the fact that he wanted to eat crepes that one time in Harajuku.

He gets a text from Akira on a clear Sunday afternoon, asking if they could spend the day together.

Mishima’s first thought is that maybe this is a date—they are dating, aren’t they?  Akira did ask a week ago but he can’t remember what sort of answer he gave back then, it was all so overwhelming—before remembering that Akira probably has something more important in mind. It’s the first time Akira has ever texted him first, so whatever it could be must be serious. He checks the message again, sends a question asking about what he’s needed for, but there is no reply. _Important,_ he thinks, _something he can’t tell me._ So it is about the Phantom Thieves.

He laughs at himself for feeling a little disappointed, for wanting more instead of offering his unconditional help. This is part of his duty to the Phantom Thieves as their PR manager, after all, and so he shouldn’t complain. He pulls on the closest clothes he can find lying about his room and leaves. It's a nice day outside and the trains aren't too crowded today, so he reaches his destination without trouble.

When he sees Akira, he stops for a moment. It’s not that Akira doesn’t always look nice, but today he is dressed in clothes that Mishima has never seen him wear before. They seem almost new, and Akira looks like a different person. He feels compelled to double check, but Akira notices his stare and straightens. Yes, this is definitely Akira, and he is definitely waiting for him.

“You look nice,” is the first thing out of Mishima’s mouth, and Akira smiles and absently runs his hand on the back of his neck. All of a sudden Mishima feels self-conscious of the clothes he’d just thrown on without thought—his shirt has a small stain from last night’s dinner, and he didn’t exactly pick a matching jacket. He looks himself over and wonders where exactly Akira is taking him that needs such nice clothes, and if he has somehow already screwed it up.

“Sorry, I didn’t see your message. I was having trouble picking something to wear,” Akira says, and before Mishima has the time to fully regret his clothing choices, he continues. “There’s just somewhere I want to take you.”

He braces himself for whatever comes next, stained shirt and all, but the place Akira takes him is to a parfait store.

The shop smells sweet and there are girls and couples everywhere, lost in their own conversations. It’s definitely not a usual place for guys to go to, and Mishima is keenly aware of how much the two of them stand out. He freezes at the door at first, wondering if Akira has made a mistake, but Akira urges him in. There are a million questions buzzing in his mind as they are seated, and the only thing that will make any degree of sense is that they must be staking out for someone, or something.

“What are we looking for again?” he whispers to Akira as a menu is handed to him, and Akira blinks before answering.

“A parfait?”

Ah, so research on parfaits. Mishima has no idea how this is supposed to help the Phantom Thieves, but he is in no position to question him. In that case, he thinks, feeling a little better now, this is something even he could help with. He has a fondness for sweets, after all.

He eagerly scans the brightly coloured pictures of the store’s specialty parfaits, and soon his stomach is sinking at the prices beside each photo. He can barely afford the cheapest parfait, never mind the fancier ones. “Akira, I—I don’t think I brought enough money.”

“Don’t worry,” Akira answers without missing a beat, “I’ll be paying.”

“You can afford _this_?” Mishima raises his eyebrows in disbelief, pointing to the menu to make his point. Akira only crosses his arms and smiles, and Mishima decides not to ask where a Phantom Thief gets money. As he examines the menu, the self-conscious tension in his stomach melts away. This may not be a date, he decides, but there are benefits for helping out the Phantom Thieves at a place like this.

 “Have you made up your mind?” Akira asks after a while, but all the parfaits look equally good and he is having a hard time deciding. As if anticipating this, Akira smiles and points at the back of the menu. “If not, how about this one?”

Akira shows Mishima a photo of a fancy parfait, crowned with a row of chocolate biscuit sticks, layered with about five flavours of ice cream and topped generously with jeweled fruit. It’s clearly not a regular parfait that Mishima can ever afford, but he stares at it with such transfixed amazement that Akira chuckles.

“Then it’s decided,” he says, and waves to a waitress, but Mishima snaps his head up to stop him.

“W-wait, I can’t—this is too much—are you sure?” The words tumble out of him in a confused mess because it’s the first time he’s ever been treated so nicely, and the unfamiliar kindness disorients him. This isn’t normal, he shouldn’t be accepting this much, but Akira smiles at him and somehow just the sight of it soothes the panic in his stomach.

“I want to. I’m the one who invited you here, after all.”

There isn’t anything to say to that, so the waitress takes their order. At first Mishima is surprised when Akira only orders the fancy parfait for him and nothing else for himself, but then the waitress carries their parfait over. _It’s huge_ , comes the first thought, and then right after, _it’s a couples parfait._

He gapes at the monstrous and yet beautiful sculpture of pure, sugary art in front of him, and the presence of the parfait draws the eyes of everyone around them. His cheeks immediately burn at the attention, but Akira doesn’t look the least bit concerned. With an encouraging smile, Akira picks up his spoon.

“You first,” he says, and Mishima now gapes at him.

“This is—Akira, this is a parfait for _couples_ ,” he hisses, and Akira’s smile only widens.

“I know.”

So _that’s_ why Akira didn’t order for himself. Feeling a little foolish and a bit like he has just fallen for a prank, Mishima numbly picks up his spoon too. He is keenly aware of the curious stares and amused whispers around them, and Akira’s composure makes him envious. He could never feel comfortable with this amount of attention on him. For the sake of the Phantom Thieves _,_ he bravely tells himself, because otherwise he’d rather disappear through the floor.

It’s a little awkward to share such a giant parfait, but with each heavenly bite Mishima loses his reservations. It helps that Akira is by his side, completely ignorant of the attention around them and only focusing on their conversation. Ah well, Mishima thinks as he enjoys the taste of the ice cream melting in his mouth, there’s no way he could ever buy something like this on his own. He might as well enjoy the moment.

Finishing the parfait takes a long time, and it is dark when they finally head to the station. Full and in utter bliss from the parfait, Mishima laughs under his breath.

“That was wonderful. Thanks for inviting me.” He rubs his arm, feeling strangely bashful, and Akira falters a little. Just as Akira steps closer to him, Mishima continues. “And uh, I know this was for research, but this felt almost like a date.”

Akira freezes at that, and the strange expression on his face tells Mishima that he has messed up. “Oh,” he says quickly, heat crawling up his neck, “oh, I mean, of course not. Haha…I just—you know—hope you got what you needed.”

His words trail off into pathetic silence, but strangely enough Akira doesn’t seem angry. If anything, he seems a little confused as he fusses with his fringe. When he finally speaks, his words are slow and careful. “Research? Mishima, that’s…well, I meant this to be a date.”

“W-what?!” Mishima raises his voice in surprise, and the passersby turn to look but he is too shocked to care. “But—I thought—”

Before he can finish his sentence, everything clicks into place—the nice clothes, the couples parfait, how close Akira is standing to him right now. All of these signs should’ve been obvious to anyone else, but it’s the first time anyone has shown interest in him and he has learned to brush off his hopes as wishful thinking. It’s frustrating how little he really knows, but at the same time there is a small glow of warmth mixed in with the embarrassment he feels. This is a date. This is a date, because Akira likes him.

Akira laughs beside him, warm and unaffected. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault that you misunderstood. I’ll be clearer next time.”

His fingers brush against Mishima’s lightly, and they feel cool to the touch. The two of them are close enough to hide their hands from wandering eyes, but it’s the affection that heats Mishima’s skin. “Hey,” Akira says, his voice low and quiet and meant only for the two of them, “do you mind if I call you Yuuki?”

The suddenness of the question throws Mishima off-guard, and it takes him a few seconds to fully process that this is the first time he has ever heard Akira use his first name. “Oh,” he breathes, and his heart feels stuck in his throat from all the words he wants to say, “Uh, sure. Yeah, of course.”

“Great. Okay.” Akira releases his breath, and it suddenly occurs to Mishima that the taller boy might be nervous too. He dismisses the thought immediately, but the light of the station reveals a faint tint on Akira’s cheeks. The realization strikes him as strange; someone as brave as Akira, who bore the weight of all the curious stares in the café without looking the slightest bit perturbed, is feeling shy too—around him, the most unassuming guy of all.

Akira’s fingers slip away as they reach the train gates. “I’ll see you later, Yuuki?” He says, and the sound of his name makes their date today feel a little more real. This time Mishima doesn’t bother hiding his smile.

“Of course. See you later.”

When Akira disappears into the crowd, Mishima takes out his phone. His smile is so wide and giddy that he’s sure it’s creepy to everyone else, but his heart is singing too loudly for him to care. With the feel of Akira’s fingers still on his own, he types out a message.

_And next time, Akira, tell me it’s a date._

 

* * *

 


End file.
